


Breathless

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:49:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: Thorin's coronation approaches but the reader is less than excited at the prospect of the banquet...and the stiff corset.





	Breathless

“Ugh,” You grunted as you scowled in the mirror, adjusting the rigid corset tied around your middle, “I don’t know if this is right.”

“Huh?” Dis turned to you, her dark hair shone with a sprinkle of grey but still lush as it hung down in perfect braids across her back, “Oh, Y/N, I told you, it’s supposed to look like that…though it could be a bit tighter.”

“Tighter?” You whined and set your hands on your already constricted waist, “I don’t—Oh!”

Before you could notice, the Dowager Princess had moved swiftly and come up behind you to yank on the laces of your corset. She knotted the ends firmly with a smile in the mirror and you withheld and agonized scowl.  You regretted letting her talk you into this and wished you had opted for your usual trousers and tunic ensemble. You knew that it would have been impossible though as Dis had insisted her brother’s coronation called for grandeur, even if it did bring you pain.

Even so, you had little desire to pull on the dress she had chosen for you or to attend the ridiculous banquet to follow. You were as happy as any that Thorin was to be crowned at last as King of the Mountain but you were not so sure it was worth such discomfort. You would have rather sent him your congratulations by messenger than to show yourself in a gown. Already, you could only imagine the japes which the sight would arouse in the princes.

You were so distracted by your worries that you barely spotted the blur of Dis in the mirror as she rushed into the next room. Fighting against the pressure in your rib cage, you tried futilely to stand naturally in the boned contraption. You would have to beg her too loosen it or you would never make it through the night. As it was, you could barely breathe simply standing still.

With a sigh that made you light-headed, you turned stiffly and lumbered into the bedroom. You were stopped short as Thorin stood by the door, his eyes finding you before you could retreat. He was dressed in all but his regalia which he would be adorned with at the ceremony. His black hair shone in the lamp light and his midnight blue overcoat enhanced his natural colouring. He looked every bit the king and you felt every bit the fool.

You blushed, resisting the urge to look down at your thin shift and taut corset. You crossed your arms to shield your chest, which was pushed up much more than was proper by the binding. Squirming under his gaze, you mustered your strength.

“Um, where’s Dis?” You asked in a thin voice, “I, uh…need to ask her something.”

“She’s gone to fetch me a pin,” He looked towards the bath chamber opposite the boudoir you had emerged from but his eyes were all too quickly back on you, “I see she has dragged you into her tedious preparations.”

“Um, yes,” You choked out and teetered on your toes nervously, “I’ll just go wait for her…in there,” You pointed over your shoulder, smiling awkwardly at the king before turning in a stunted manner.

“I’ll see you at the banquet,” He called to you as you scrambled for the door, “With bells on, I would expect.”

“Hmmp,” You grumbled and closed the door behind you, looking at your reflection. You were mortified as you took in your appearance, your figure contorted by the boning of the corset and your chest nearly overflowing from the top, the white skirt lacking decent opacity. Cringing, you swallowed your shame and huffed, waiting for Dis to return so that you could scold her for manipulating you into this whole affair.

* * *

Dis had forced you into a satin gown the colour of fragrant wisteria and had woven your braids into a chignon behind your head. It was a far cry from your usual attire and you felt like an entirely different person. The only compromise you had wrangled out of the stubborn Dowager was a pair of flat slippers over the heeled monstrosities she had first offered. Even so, you felt ludicrous as you followed the king’s sister through the corridors.

What was worse were the two Durin princes who walked behind you, twittering and giggling about your get-up. They had made a remark about you being a “dainty flower” and “blossomed lady” upon their first sight of you but a jab to the ribs had quieted them to a hush. The squabble had drawn their mother’s disapproving eye and she had chosen to admonish you over her crude sons.

For some unknown reason, she was expecting much of you on a night meant for her brother. You had assumed you would have been able to disappear into the crowd of dwarves, in your own clothing, and be left to a pint of dwarvish ale in peace. You would offer your blessings to the newly-crowned king and your night would be over. No dresses, no ridiculous preening, and surely no dancing. But, as it was, Dis seemed to have her own machinations for you.

“Ugh,” You tripped over the hem of your skirts as you neared the double doors of the great hall, Fili catching you before you could stumble further, “Oh. Thank you,” You straightened up and dusted off your bodice with your hands, trying to find a modicum of dignity, “I think forgoing the heeled slippers was a wise decision.”

“Oh, hush, Y/N,” Dis waved away your comment, “You wouldn’t have such difficulty if you would have worn the slippers beforehand as I had advised.”

“Give me my boots any day,” You grumbled and shot a sneer towards her giggling sons, “And these two! Are they going to be following me around like shadows all night?”

“They have their place,” She turned to them with hands on hips, “Go find Balin. The ceremony should begin soon.”

“Yes, mother,” The Durins grumbled in demure obedience and turned away, a troublesome gleam still in their eyes despite their mother’s severity. “Now, Y/N,” She looked back to you with the same piercing eyes, “You and I must do the same.”

You merely nodded as you saw her patience waning under the stress of the coronation. She had done much of the preparations for the affair and she never expected anything less than perfection. With a brusque wave, she ushered you forward into the swathes of chattering dwarrows and dwarrowdams, weaving decisively between bodies.

At the front of the throng, Dis pulled you to the left side just before the raised dais and looked you over as if appraising your value. You had seen a similar expression in her brother many times and it seemed the bloodline bred such imperious eyes. You shook your head at her with confusion and she merely smiled and tucked a strand of loose hair back behind your ear before adjusting her own braids.

The sound of a horn blasted across the forum, Gloin lowering the hollowed bone from his lips as all began to quiet and arranged themselves around the aisle cordoned off by velvet banners tied to silver poles. You stood at the front of the crowd with Dis, her place of honour as sister to the king, and you wondered why she had insisted at bringing you along with her. You would have rather been with Bofur and his brothers as they lounged near the back.

You were distracted as another horn sounded, along with several others, and the tune signaled the arrival of the king. Thorin stepped out with shoulders squared and head held high at the other end of the hall. You craned your neck with others to watch him progress down the centre aisle and the dwarves stood in rare reverence as the heir made the walk to reclaim the Mountain once and for all.

As Thorin neared the front, Dis took your hand and squeezed it gently. You looked to her warm smile but there was more to it than merely regalement. The same cryptic flicker which had lit her face for the last day remained and you could not guess at its reason. You could only return her smile and turn back to watch the king pass by. As he did, his blue eyes glanced over at you and his lips twitched in recognition, a twinkle of surprise before he refocused on his purpose.

You were embarrassed as you recalled your appearance and frowned, resisting the urge to grumble at Dis for her coercion. The king had never looked at you so peculiarly when you were in your tunic. Then, he had looked upon you as a warrior, as a capable ally in his quest to retake Erebor. _Why must his sister ruin all that you had earned in sweat and blood all for some paltry celebration?_

Withholding your discontent, you regained your joyous façade, though you were as proud as any to see the king crowned. You watched as Balin began his recitations in khuzdul and felt an airiness in your chest, your mission at last complete as Thorin was crowned King Under the Mountain. All the pain had been worth it, even that of the boned corset as it crushed your ribs.

* * *

You sat, stabbing your fork violently against the silver plate, moping as the princes sat on either side of you. It was just like Dis to seat you between the two most troublesome guests. She had claimed it to be due to your ability to keep them in line though you had never proven yourself capable of that. They had continually commented upon your ‘unusual’ appearance and you had responded with sharp elbows and restrained growls. You doubt you looked any part the lady with such a dark expression.

Dis kept sending you glances from down the table where she sat beside the new king, his other side flanked by Balin and his brother who looked just as miserable as you. With each curious peek, you sunk lower into your chair and tried not to snap at the twittering princes. Taking your goblet and gulping back the thick ale, you were nearly startled as the band took up a chirpy tune and bodies began to flood the floor for the first dance of the night. Resigned to hide in your chair, you emptied your cup and slammed it back on the table.

Fili and Kili looked to you in surprise as they stood, eager to be out on the floor before your wrath turned once more to them. You sensed movement further down the table as the brothers hurried away and Dis sent you a reproachful look before turning back to speak to Thorin. Lowering your brow with a sigh, you traced the embossed pattern along the side of the silver goblet. Time could not move fast enough.

With every second, you felt the corset growing tighter and your skirts heavier. Ale would aid in the passing of minutes but you knew should imbibe too excessively, you would get more than a look from Dis. The first song ended and you fidgeted in your seat, trying to get comfortable though you knew it to be an insurmountable task. You glanced over to see if Dis was watching but you found her seat empty and you noticed that you and Dwalin were the only two guests still seated.

Your realization was interrupted as you felt a tap on your shoulder from your other side and looked up to find Thorin staring down at you. He wore the same bemused expression as he had walking down the aisle and his eyes roved your figure with unveiled delight. You shook your head and pushed out your chair, rising to meet his challenging gaze.

“Please, Thorin, I’ve heard it all from your nephews,” You scolded, “So just get it over with. Have your laugh and leave me to my misery.”

“Laugh?” He wondered slyly, “Oh, nothing of the sort. I was actually going to espouse on how lovely you look tonight.”

“Don’t,” You warned with a sharp point, “You’re not much subtler than the rest of your kin. I know I look like a painted fool.”

“Not at all,” There was sincerity beneath his mirth, “Truly, I did wonder earlier how you would pull it all together,” He alluded to your previous encounter and you coloured at the recollection of your lack of clothing, “All this time, I’d never considered what lay beneath all that wool.”

“Enough,” You cleared your throat awkwardly, “That’s not very…proper.”

“Dis can dress you up any way she likes but don’t try to act like you’ve ever been proper,” He teased and his light-hearted manner bewildered you, “She has however made the same effort at my expense. This whole night she has spent lecturing me on my kingly duties.”

“You would think the crown better left to her,” You japed and looked out among the crowds to search for the Dowager but could not find her.

“Exactly my thoughts,” He grumbled and his voice hollowed slightly, “And she, uh, made one suggestion in particular.”

“Oh, which is? What more do you need but that crown?” You gestured to the circlet upon his brow.

“Well, I…” He hooked his thumbs under the silver wrought belt around his waist, “Uh, well,” He was suddenly stuttering as his eyes moved evasively, “She said I should join the festivities…and dance.”

“Dance?” You squinted at him suspiciously, “Well, I’m sure you could find a partner easy enough.”

“Do you really think I would suffer without you?” He countered, regaining his former boldness, “You’re the only partner I think worthy enough to share in such delights.”

“Oh, Mahal,” You pouted and looked around once more, finding Dis at last as she watched from the other side of the hall, “Well, I think if I refuse she may just come over and make me dance with her.”

“That is by far the greatest ‘yes’ I’ve ever gotten,” He taunted dryly, “If you would?”

Thorin offered his hand and you took it slowly, letting him guide you from behind the long table and to the dance floor. Those twirling and stepping around you lent little excitement to the prospect and the king turned back to you, awkwardly guiding your arms into position. Stiffly, you followed his lead as he began to move in time with the music and you realized he was a much more gifted dancer than yourself. Not that you were much of one at all.

“I forgot how good you are at this,” You cursed him, “And how terrible I am.”

“You’re not so bad,” He mused and grinned down at you, “You just need to relax…though I think the corset doesn’t allow for much of that.”

“Ugh, don’t I know it,” You wriggled awkwardly in another effort to loosen the boning, “I hate this thing.”

“I don’t much mind it,” He remarked, “Though,” He leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper, “I preferred it without the dress.”

“Thorin,” You slapped his shoulder with your palm, “What has gotten into you?”

“I just…I’ve never seen you like this,” He smirked as he spoke and his cheeks turned rosy as he straightened up, “I mean…I always knew you were a dwarrowdam but…”

You were sure he was teasing you, that he was making a joke his nephews would chortle grandly at. You pulled away from him and scoffed, stomping your foot, though the slipper made the angry gesture comical. “Very funny,” You huffed and turned on your heel, storming away from the king as you shoved through the bodies around you.

Before you could reach the doors, a hand caught your arm and you were forced back around to face Thorin, all humour washed away from his features. His blue eyes looked down at you intently and his usual austerity had returned. He cleared his throat and glanced around at the crowds which filled the room, the other guests remaining oblivious to your tantrum.

“Y/N,” He released your arm as if remembering himself, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it as a joke…” He looked to his toes and then back at you, “Can we talk…somewhere else?”

“Why?” You sulked as you stepped back, “So you don’t have to worry about having an audience?”

“Truly, Y/N, I’m serious, I wasn’t making fun of you,” His lips slanted and his shoulders slumped slightly, “Please?”

“Fine,” You accepted skeptically, “You have five minutes.”

Thorin nodded and gestured for you to turn around as he led you through a side door along the back of the hall. Winding through corridors silently, you could feel the tension of his anxiety building and he finally led you through a single stone door which you easily recognized. He ushered you in with few words and closed the door of his solar gently. Lighting a single lantern among the dark, he turned back to you and swallowed nervously as he measured his next words.

“Y/N,” His voice quavered and you suddenly realized you had let your pride corrupt his meaning, “I’m sorry.” He reached up and removed the bejeweled crown from his dark hair, tossing it onto his ebony desk carelessly, “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“Thorin, I–” You inhaled and chewed your lip before continuing, “It’s fine, I was being stupid. I let my temper get the best of me. I appreciate you dancing with me and all that but…” You gestured to your attire, “This isn’t me.”

“I know it isn’t,” He stepped closer, “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suit you,” His lips twitched, “Which is what I was trying to say. Among other things.”

“Other things?” You inquired with a raised brow.

“Well, yes, I mean, it shouldn’t have taken a corset and your bosom, ahem…” He caught himself and chuckled, “My apologies, but it’s a bit difficult not to notice. They are quite ample.”

“Three minutes, Thorin,” You warned, wishing you could pull the dress up over your cleavage.

“Sorry, sorry, my mind does wander,” He wiped the grin from his face, “What I was saying is it shouldn’t have taken all of Dis’ ridiculous efforts to make me admit how I feel…about you.”

“About me?” You echoed and tilted your head inquisitively.

“We’ve known each other a long time, we’ve fought together, traveled together,” He shrugged and exhaled tensely, “Well, I guess it was only inevitable that it happened.”

“You know I am terrible at riddles, Thorin,” You groused, “Please, just get to it.”

“Mahal, Y/N,” He exclaimed suddenly, “I’m trying to tell you that I love you! And that you look incredible in that stupid dress, even if you hate it.”

“What?” You uttered in shock, giggling despite yourself, “You what?”

Your giggles turned to guffaws and you clutched your corseted middle, unable to bend against the boning. The confession was somehow absurd even though it made your chest swell and your cheeks burns. You could not help but laugh and you looked up to find the king staring at you startled and speechless.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Thorin,” You wheezed and calmed your laughter, “I am…I just…I never thought–” You hiccoughed again but caught yourself from further chuckles, “I’m swear I’m not laughing at you, it’s just…I–” You breathed out and righted yourself, “Sorry, I’m surprised, is all.”

“Surprised?” His features were lined with worry, “Y/N?”

“In a good way,” You assured, “But, truly, Thorin? Do you really think I was prepared to hear that? That you love me?”

“Well, I do,” He grumbled darkly, “You don’t have to feel the same–”

“Thorin, Thorin, please,” You set your hands on his chest calmingly, “I didn’t mean it like that.” You looked into his eyes, running your palms up the brocade of his overcoat to his shoulders, “I love you, too.”

“You…do?” He asked as if he was certain you were joking.

“Of course, I do,” You touched his cheek softly, “How could I not? You’re the only person who could put up with my horrid dancing.”

At last he smiled, his face brightening with relief before he laughed himself. His hands came up to rest upon your waist and he leaned in slowly. You tilted your head back and waited for him to kiss you, but he paused just before your lips, “Do you know how to get this thing off?” He asked with a smirk, alluding to the boning beneath his fingers.

“We can figure it out,” You lilted as you traced the line of his beard with your fingers, “I’m sure Dis wouldn’t mind a few broken laces.”

With that, you pressed your lips to his and he kissed you deeply as your breath caught against the constraint of the corset and the weight of Thorin’s embrace. As you melted against the warmth of his body, you swore that you would never again wear a dress, even if you had to fight Dis off with a stick.


End file.
